by C. R. Ellis
I watched Jasmine weave her way through the large, elaborately decorated space. She had the same professional demeanor with all the staff members as she did with guests of the wedding. I noticed some of the male guests, including a few celebrities, also watching her. I couldn’t blame them for looking; she was breathtaking in a sexy black dress that fell off her shoulders and hugged her body in all the right places.
As soon as the penguin-suit sporting waiters started bringing out dinner, I made my escape and went to wait for Jasmine in the supply closet. Looking around, I didn’t even care that the cluttered space was less than ideal for a sexual rendezvous. When it came to Jas, I hated the mere thought of rushing things, but technically she was ‘on the clock’ so a quickie would have to do for now.
A clandestine quickie with my hot-as-fuck girlfriend.
Just thinking about pulling Jas’s dress up and bending her over right here was enough to make me painfully hard.
I stripped out of my jacket, pulled off the stupid pink bowtie Al had picked to compliment the bridesmaid dresses, and was undoing the last button of my shirt when the door creaked open.
“Thank god. I was about to start without you, babe,” I said, spinning around toward the door.
Cold, calculated blue eyes met mine.
“Shit,” I muttered, my spine instinctively straightening. “What are you doing in here, Natasha?”
The ice in her eyes thawed as she dragged her gaze down my exposed torso. “I’m here for you of course, darling,” she drawled, sauntering toward me until we were inches apart. Her swaying frame and red rimmed eyes were a surprise to see. She was usually the picture of composure and grace.
I took a step back and shook my head. “You shouldn’t be. How did you even find me?”
“I was coming out of the ladies’ room when I saw you sneak in here.” She dragged a long red nail down my chest, peering up at me with a seductive smile pulling at her matching red lips. “I didn’t know why you’d be hiding away in a broom closet, but now I get it. You were waiting for me.”
“What? No. I’m waiting for my girlfriend, Natasha. You know, the one you saw me kiss after the photos,” I said, using what little room I had left to step out of her reach.
Fuck. I need to get her out of here. Now.
She frowned. “Oh, come on, Dean. You don’t have to pretend she’s your girlfriend. She served her purpose, and you’ve succeeded in making me jealous.”
In those three sentences, she slurred her words twice.
Clarity smacked me in the face and snapped me into action.
“You’re drunk, Natasha,” I said, gripping her by the biceps and holding her away from me when she tried to slip her hands underneath the material of my shirt. “Look, I’m sorry you found out about my relationship this way, but I’ve moved on. Jasmine’s going to come in here any second. You need to go.”
She froze and narrowed her glossy eyes into slits. “That’s it? You really think we’re done? After everything? What about the night of Nate’s graduation?” she asked, stepping forward to press her chest against mine.
I flinched. “Nothing happened that night, and you know it. We’d both had too much to drink, and I slept on your couch. Period, end of story. Don’t try to make that something it wasn’t. I’m in love with her, Natasha. You and I have been over for a long time. I’m sorry if you were under a different impression, but I made it crystal clear that we weren’t getting back together.”
The second those words registered with Natasha’s drunken brain her jaw clenched and her chest heaved. The iciness in her gaze morphed into a full-on raging storm of anger. “No. You’re wrong. We’re not over. You can’t fake the kind of connection we had, Dean. Have. I know you’ve missed me. Missed this,” she slurred, reaching under her left arm to unzip the side of her dress. It fell partially off, enough to expose her strapless bra.
“Natasha, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. You need to zip that back up and get the fuck out of here. In fact, you should probably go straight to your room and call it a night.”
She jumped back from me as if I’d suggested she go to a homeless shelter.
“You’re making a mistake,” she hissed, the venom in her voice shocking me into silence.
“No, I don’t think I’ll go to my room,” she continued, stepping around me so that our positions were reversed. “I think I’ll go tell Uncle Marcus and Aunt Vanessa that I just caught the wedding planner wiping a white powdery substance off her nose and the counter in the bathroom. I’ll say I couldn’t be sure, that I wouldn’t want to make assumptions, but it certainly looked like drugs. Better yet, maybe I’ll let that tidbit slip into a toast for the happy couple.”
What. The. Fuck.
A woman scorned…
I fisted my hands together at my side in an effort to keep them from wrapping around her fucking neck. “Do you hear yourself? Jesus Christ, Natasha. You’re delusional. You can’t just go around slandering people’s names. Nobody would believe you, anyway. And you’re fucking insane if you think I’d ever let you go out there and do that in the first place.”
She shrugged. “It’ll be my word against yours. And with your track record, it wouldn’t really be a stretch to think you’d let yourself get attached to another drug addict.”
This time I couldn’t control the anger.
I ran my fist into the wall next to her head without hesitation. I was sure I’d feel pain momentarily, but for now the adrenaline numbed all sensation in my right hand.
All I felt was anger.
Roaring, blinding anger.
And the crippling need to protect Jasmine from Natasha’s mind-fuck head games.
Jas had been right back on that platform—she wasn’t Lilly.
And I wasn’t the same guy I was nine years ago. Or six years ago.
This time, I’d do whatever it took to save Jasmine. I just had to get the fuck out of this damn closet and find her to explain before…
I was on the verge of turning around without so much as giving Natasha another word when she threw herself against me, ripping my shirt halfway off my arms and crashing her mouth into mine before I could react. Her fingers wrapped around the short hairs at the base of my skull and held me in place while she shoved her tongue into my mouth and stuck her other hand into my pants.
I was stunned, but reacted immediately and shoved her off.
“What the—”
She pulled away and adjusted her dress, looking over my shoulder with a sardonic smile that instantly made all the hairs on my neck stand up.
No…
This cannot be happening.
I froze, unable to make myself turn around.
Natasha finished zipping her dress and wiped at her lips before throwing me a wink. “That was fun, darling, but not quite as fun as the night of Nate’s graduation. You know, when we fucked so hard you said you’d never had better.”
She stepped around me, and I turned, silently praying to any god who’d listen that my worst nightmare wasn’t about to come to life.
I’d never had a clearer understanding of the phrase crime of passion until this moment. Seeing Natasha slither toward the door like the snake she was made me want to commit every crime in the book. I’d never felt an emotion so acutely before.
Until I locked eyes with the woman I loved.
Whose heart was breaking in front of me.
Chapter 32
Jasmine
Who do I contact about the fact that my life did NOT turn out as promised by the M.A.S.H. games Jade and I played in middle school?
Jasmine Winters, still waiting on her mansion in France, $2.5 million annual salary, and marriage proposal from Justin Timberlake
I wanted to run. Or throw up. Or cry. Or collapse. Is it possible to do all four at the same time? I couldn’t keep up with all the raging emotions tearing through me. The logical part of my brain knew I needed to let Dean explain, that there had to be a reason for what I had witnessed. But the em
otional, can’t-go-through-this-pain-again part of my brain was waging war against the logical part, and fighting dirty—bringing all my heartache of the past into play, using it as a shield to block any logical thoughts from connecting to my mouth.
Natasha slipped out quickly, which was wise because I was seconds from throat-punching that bitch. I brought my eyes up to meet Dean’s, a little scared of what I’d see in them. Rejection? Apathy? Disinterest? Every instinct in my body warned me to turn and run.
Dean took a step toward me and I instinctively flinched.
The hurt in his eyes was surprising, but wasn’t enough to elicit a word from me.
“Jasmine, please, you have to know this isn’t what it looks like. She fucking ambush-kissed me. I know that’s what anyone would say in this situation, but I swear it’s the truth.”
It felt like fear, anger, frustration, and confusion were holding each of my limbs and pulling me in different directions, slowly tearing me apart.
If I’d only seen them kiss, and hadn’t heard Natasha’s parting words, maybe some semblance of my soul would still be intact. I knew by Dean’s reaction that he hadn’t been a willing participant. But, on some level, I couldn’t be sure if that was because he realized he’d been caught, or because he really wasn’t willing.
My heart begged me to believe the latter.
My head argued it was the former.
“What happened to your hand?” I asked, looking down at the blood dripping from his right hand. “And what did she mean, Dean? About the night of Nate’s graduation.” My voice came out hollow and broken.
Technically, Dean and I hadn’t been together at that point in time, but he’d also sworn to me that he never touched Natasha after they broke up.
He paused, taking careful steps in my direction. “I punched the wall. It’s fine,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of a hole in the wall before coming to a stop in front of me. “Baby, please,” he begged, desperation seeping into his tone. “She’s wasted. I promise to explain everything, but right now, we really need to go find her before she does something stupid and makes things worse.”
I lifted a brow, but didn’t move toward the door. Dean started one-handed buttoning his shirt back up, and I moved to help him, but immediately froze when I pictured Natasha’s hands roaming along the plane of his chest. He must’ve sensed my panic because he abandoned his buttons, bringing his hand up to cradle my face.
“I told her that I was with you, and that she and I were never getting back together. She didn’t take it well, and started saying she’d go tell Charlie’s parents, and even the rest of the guests, that she saw you doing coke in the bathroom. I need to go get her taken up to her room. I won’t let her slander you like that.”
My mouth fell open at Dean’s explanation. I hadn’t, at all, been expecting that. But at the moment, I couldn’t summon the energy to give a single fuck whether or not she told the entire guest list I was a coke fiend.
All I cared about was an explanation about what she said.
Apparently, reputations take a backseat when hearts are on the line.
Dean’s hand gripped mine as he pulled me toward the door.
My feet stayed planted in place.
“Jas? Did you hear me?” he asked, his green eyes piercing and urgent.
“Dean, I know you would do anything to save me, to protect me.” I paused, making sure he was with me. He gave a hesitant nod, so I continued, forcing my voice to remain steady when, internally, I was teetering on the edge of despair. “But right now, I don’t need you to go out there to save me. I need you to stay in here and save us.”
He let out a long breath before giving me a nod. “Okay.”
“Tell me she was lying about Nate’s graduation night.”
His head dropped, and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.
He picked his head up, and I forced myself not to look away when his eyes found mine. “We went out that night to celebrate. I had a few beers, then Nate wanted to go back to her apartment and play video games. So I went, and Natasha gave me a glass of wine. I didn’t realize how much I’d had to drink, but eventually I realized I couldn’t make it back to my hotel. So when she offered to let me crash on her couch, I said okay. I didn’t think anything of it. Eventually, Nate crashed, and she and I started talking about random shit. Then, before I knew what she was doing, she came on to me. But—”
I interrupted before he could finish, needing him to speed it up. “Did you sleep with her?” His eyes bulged and he looked at me as if I’d slapped him. “I mean, you and I weren’t together then, so you could’ve fucked her if you wanted.”
“No,” he roared, anger rolling off him in waves. “Jesus, Jasmine. No. I didn’t fuck her.”
“If that’s the truth, why didn’t you tell me?” I spat, feeling my heart grab on to the anger instead of the hurt. I took a step back, hating the way he phrased his answer. “I don’t know, Dean, she seemed awfully comfortable having her hand down your fucking pants just now. If you didn’t fuck her, what did you do? Go down on her? Let her—”
“Jasmine, stop,” he hissed, eyes blazing with rage. “Nothing happened that night. Don’t you think, after everything, I would’ve told you the truth if something had? The night when we finally sorted everything out…I would’ve told you if there was anything you needed to know, Jas.”
My hollow laugh pierced the air, startling us both.
A tiny voice in the back of my mind warned that I was letting my anger blind me to reason and truth, but I ignored it.
“I don’t know, Dean. I fucking trusted you, and you lied. You once told me you’d never lie to me, and I believed you. Now, I don’t know what to believe. For all I know, you’ve secretly been fucking her every time you’re on a ‘work trip’ or every time you went to see Nate!”
It was Dean’s turn to be outraged. His face morphed into a foreign mixture of horror and fury, his jaw set in a hard, straight line as his eyes burned into me. He looked like he was on the brink of losing his temper completely. “Are you fucking serious, Jasmine? You’re out of your goddamned mind and more insane than Natasha if you actually believe any of that,” he shot angrily, stepping away from me and lacing his hands behind his head.
Uncertainty permeated my entire body. The remnants of my heart begged me to go to Dean, to take back the words I’d just said. To let him patch up my heart again.
I took a step toward him, but his hands rose to halt my progress.
“Don’t,” he warned. “If I look at you, I will say something I’ll regret. I’ve never been this angry with you before. You can’t…you can’t hold our past against me forever, Jasmine.”
His voice was softer than I deserved on the last sentence, and I knew he was talking about more than just the situation with Natasha.
My chest heaved underneath my dress; it felt as though the bodice was slowly crushing my ribcage, and my unsteady breaths weren’t helping. We’d said so many hurtful things to each other in the past, but not since we’d officially gotten together. I had ruined that streak with outrageous comments that never should’ve been spoken.
We stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, each simmering in the depths of our anger. I knew I’d hurt him, and I didn’t even really understand why I was lashing out at him, but I just couldn’t stop myself.
He finally broke the silence, but still didn’t make a move to turn and look at me. “You tell me, Jas. Are you doing this because you honestly think I’m capable of treating you like that, or are you using it as your escape route out of our relationship? Either you don’t trust me, or you’re trying to push me away because you want out. Which one is it?”
“What? That’s not…I’m not…” I trailed off, struggling to wrap my head around what was happening. His insinuation was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
Well, that is your M.O., called an annoying, persistent voice. I took a tentative step toward him. He tensed and turned around
when my hands landed on his body.
“Look, Jasmine. I love you. Those words,” he paused, shaking his head and searching my eyes for something—understanding maybe—before continuing. “Those words aren’t even enough to describe how I feel about you. You give my life meaning, you give me peace, and you make me want to give you the fairytale life you deserve. Without you, my life is dull. Colorless,” he finished, reaching out to lightly stroke my cheek. The look in his eyes shattered my heart; I hated myself for hurting him. His hand fell away, and he took two steps back.
“But I can’t live in the shadow of our past mistakes, Jasmine, with the fear that love isn’t enough for you, wondering if there’s a looming expiration date for our relationship. You need time or space—or both—to figure out if my love, if our love, is worth believing in and worth fighting for. As much as it kills me, I’m going to give you the space. I’m not going anywhere, but don’t come back to me until you figure it out.”
There was a certain finality in his voice, and I knew any protest from my lips would go unheard.
Could I protest his words? That same unwelcome voice that had nagged at me for weeks, saying I’d never be able to have a happily-ever-after was there, telling me Dean was right. But how could he be right? I honestly believed I’d overcome the insecurities and fears that the falling out with Dean six years ago had created, but now I wasn’t so sure. How could I say those things to Dean if I really trusted him?
I hadn’t realized I was crying until the first tear fell from my cheek. I didn’t even try to stop them from falling once they started. I struggled to breathe, and my dress felt more like a prison for lungs than a couple of layers of lace. In a matter of minutes, my life had unraveled before my eyes, and now I was going to suffocate in a supply closet.
Sometimes life really is a cruel, unfair bitch.
Dean moved toward me, instinctively wanting to comfort me, I could tell. But he stopped himself and pulled his uninjured hand through his hair. He was fighting an internal battle, wondering if he should cross the line he’d just drawn. He might’ve, sort of, almost, possibly broken up with me, but he also said he loved me, and I believed him.